Picking Up the Shards
by Helene2Troie
Summary: Sequel to Through the Mirror's Sharp Edge As each of them deal with the broken mirror, some finally see what was reflected in it the whole time. They then learn to pick up the shards.
1. Of Hard Recoveries and Rash Actions

Hello everyone!  
Welcome to Picking Up the Shards, the sequel to Through the Mirror's Sharp Edge. To avoid any possible confusion, please refer to the previous story to have a little backround on the characters and happenings.  
Storm Hawks and its characters don't belong to me in any way, I just have great fun with them, putting them in desperate, gloomy stories :)

A great thanks to all my reviewers, especially kanjogirl, Xibrei, storkstalker and Dotskip317 at - you guys are the ones that kept this crazy story going.

As I've been told the frequent switches between dream, reality, and memories were confusing, I've taken precautions. While you still get the crazy pace, it will hopefully be less confusing. (Thank you Lace Agate)

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She shuddered against the cold air being blown into her face. Her bare arms slowly turned paler, and covered themselves with little bumps. The unforgiving artic environment was pitiless against her summer garments. Ironically, her red clothes were far from being warm. She shook once again.

"Filthy sky knights...", she growled.

The Cyclonian's natural ennemies had nothing to do with her current situation, but she muttered those words as an insult, a way to bring anger into this. And anger gave her strength. Strength.

She grabbed the radio once again, and turned the knobs in a desperate attempt to receive a signal. It only produced a hissing, spluttering sound. The metal object was of no use in this tundra.

Raging, she threw the receiver to the ground. It fell on a lying rock and broke into a thousand pieces. Definetely useless now. Just like her.

She yelled to the moon, just because she felt like it. Frozen tears were struggling to get past her purple eyes.

"What have I ever done to you?!", she hollered at the sky.

Then came the answer. She had another wave of spasm. Those came often nowadays. She writhed on the ground, her screams echoing through the deserted land. She was alone. Alone. Alone.

Then she saw HIM. He was as she remembered, proud, smirking, brandishing double blades glowing blue in the white snow.

"You killed me. And now you will suffer the consequences. Failure in your missions. Dissention. Ostracized from your dearest friends. Killing more and more... without stopping, because you will start to like it. Oh yes, Miriam, you are cursed. Cursed. Cursed."

She needed to stop him. His continuous phrase froze her more than the ice surrounding them. In her hand suddenly appeared her short sword. She gripped it firmly and threw it towards him. She didn't miss.

She ran to him, to see if he was still alive. She screamed as he transformed into Canem. Then Lyo. Then Jillian.

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**Back in a small room aboard _The Raven..._**

Miriam's frantic muttering woke up Jillian, who had taken the habit of sleeping in the cot next to hers. He grabbed her hand, a movement now depending more on habit than anything else, and stayed awake until her whimperings lessened. Another nightmare probably. They were recurrent, even after three years.

Still groggy from being awaken in the middle of a dream, he stood up, his lithe body stretching up to the sky. He had grown quite tall in these numerous months, now more an adult than a child. His hair was still dark green, his eyes still wide and azure, but his expressions now fitted his face more than before. His clever mask was more appropriate for a fifteen-years old than a little one. A baby almost, taken from the crib as the dwindling forces of Cyclonia were forced to recruit younger and younger...

He reached for his boomerang, on his bedside table. With a satisfied sigh, he checked the weapon was right where he had left it. Never again was he to borrow any man's staff. Even the sight of them brought back memories of that night...

Miriam was still at last, her breathing more regular. Jillian reluctantly let go of her hand. She was safe. He was safe. She had kept them all safe. She was the one who had done the deed, protected them at the price of her mental well-being...

Jillian slumped back on his pillow and studied her still pained expressions. She had grown her brown hair, which was spread all over her covers like precious fur. Her purple eyes were closed, but the adolescent knew for a fact that they had grown darker, almost grey. She was still regularly shaped, maybe slightly muscled, her skin tanned by the warm weather.

What was it with Miriam and the sun? He pondered to himself. For two years straight, she had accepted only missions to desert Terras, or anything on the tropical and mediterranean side. It still amazed him, but it was probably linked to the nightmares she was having. She often complained about being cold.

He checked the three clocks tinking on the metal wall of the carrier. Midnight. He yawned softly, muting the sound with both his long hands. His skinny legs were beginning to shiver under the recycled oxygen blown on them, and the covers of his bed looked very warm...

He hiked his way back onto the elevated sleeping space, grabbing his thermal blanket and wrapping it around himself. He contemplated the stars, partly hiden by the moon, which were easily seen from the round window to his left.

He stifled another yawn and decided it was time to go back to sleep. The teenager made a little nest and waited until his bed became warmer. As he had a good thermal blanket, the process didn't take too long.

"Good night Miriam.", he murmured.

He went back to sleep, his expressions becoming serene and peaceful.

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**The Next Morning**

Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep...

They all jumped in the air, startled. Canem even gave a small yip, before gruffily clearing his throat. The alarm rang on, as nobody had the courage to go shut it down.

Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep...

Miriam sighed, and looked mournfully at her half-eaten breakfast. Jillian yawned a little louder, regretting his comfortable cot and the restful sleep it brought with it...

Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep...

Canem's sensitive ears had had more than enough of this continuous beeping. He growled, suffering from a bad headache.

Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep...

The noise was grating on everyone's nerves now, but still nobody had the urge to go shut it down.

Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep... Beeeeeeeeeep...

Miriam sighed and lifted herself from her stool. She walked over to the communications section on the driving board and pushed a button that instantly turned off the cursed sound. As soon as she had done so, a voice sprang from the receiver, making her regret the high-pitched resonance.

"Squadron Night Crows! Answer me!"

They all looked forlorn as they recognized the voice. It was as they had known it would be- anxious, stressed, and strained. It carried the message they knew it carried.

"This is Miriam."

The line stayed silent for half a second, a blessed moment of peace.

"I need to speak to you about your position. Why aren't you at rendez-vous point?"

Canem's expression changed into a mask of pity as he looked upon the face of his teamates. He himself didn't feel the strain of it all as they did. He was more robust, more endurant. They, however, were at the end of their supply of energy and good will. It looked like Miriam was about to hang up on the announcer.

"I believe a mission awaits you, Night Crows.", pointed out the voice.

"We have been on a mission yesterday.", reminded the young woman.

Behind her back, Jillian mouthed the words- "And the day before that, and the day before that..."

"I realize you're working harder, but we need all the help we can muster at Terra Saharr. The sky knights are gathering for a race, the outcome of which will define the new Emperor...", continued the voice

The fifteen-years old sitting on the bench behind the controls whispered the words- "as if we didn't know THAT already!"

"But... The team is getting tired, we'll be no good in a week or so, when the actual..."

"Look Miriam, just do what we ask you to do. You guys aren't the only ones working."

The line went quiet, and the transmission was over. With a tired gesture, the human girl replaced the headset into its appropriate box. Her short nails grated against the plastic material. Her mouth formed into a resigned pout.

"Well, thanks, Lyo...", sardonically commented Jillian, pondering when he would ever get his sleep between Miriam's nightmares and their constant calls from the Cyclonian Commands.

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**A short while ago, in a Sky Knight controlled Terra...**

"Who are you? State your business!"

The sky knight's weapon lowered as he saw the incomer in full light. It was an old lady, no more than fifty, with long white hair hanging from her shoulder like a cape. She was deathly thin and her face had a sickly tone about it. Clearly no cause for prudence. A defenseless civilian.

"You're past cufew, filth! Get back to your slum before I decide to drag you there!"

"I must have been in there a while. Men respected women in my times.", muttered the elderly woman.

"Are you talking to me, wench?! I've got half my mind to..."

Her orange eyes glinted dangerously in the falling darkness. Her mouth curled into a growl of fury, and for a second, she looked like she had many years ago, defending females' rights in the High Courts of the Sky Knight Kingdom.

"Yes, I'm talking to you. I don't like you very much, brute."

The guard leered and made a gesture to hit her with his staff. He didn't expect what followed.

She grabbed the staff with strength the sky knight had no idea she possessed. She twisted the metal rod, scraping away at the soft skin of his hand. While he was yowling in pain, she swiftly brought up her knee, completing his painful moment.  
She finished him off with a hit to the back of his skull, under which he shivered and at last fell to the ground.

She smirked, victorious pride filling her every vein. She inhaled slowly, catching her breath, and strengthened her hold on her newly-acquired weapon. It was now time to find Junko.

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**In the present time, sky knight training camp, a secluded balcony...**

"Wren! Wren, are you listening to me?"

Lark impatiently tapped her foot, producing a soft clanking sound over the stone soil. She was as stunning as ever, her silky black hair flowing freely, cascading down her back, and her deep purple eyes shining in the moonlight. She was wearing a dress, contrary to her usual leather armor. It was long and brushed her ankles in a smooth blue cloud.

"Sorry Lark, I was just... Thinking about that race coming up."

Her black eyebrows raised in annoyance. Her feminine pride was slightly hurt when she realized she hadn't been the source of his ponderings.

"Why do you care? Do you honestly think you got a chance at winning?"

She had meant it in a friendly, joking manner. However, she now saw he had taken it the wrong way.

"I do.", he dryly answered.

Silence followed for a time after that. Lark nervously leaned over the bacony, distractedly glancing at the scenary under her feet. A bustling Terra, its marketplace filled with individuals dressed in bright colors...

"Do you ever wonder who our parents are?", suddenly bursted Wren.

"What?", questionned Lark, careful not to let any emotion show on her face.

"You know... We didn't just pop out of the sky! I mean, there's got to be someone, somewhere... you know...", mumbled the dark-haired blue-eyed man.

"They told us not to think about that.", implied Lark.

"I know! That's why I'm asking you here, in the balcony, where no one can hear us!", voiced Wren, getting short-tempered.

"Some people would call that treason.", she muttered quietly.

"So what, you're going to turn me in? Just because I asked for your opinion about something?", interrogated Wren.

"You're scaring me, Wren! You sound like some kind of cyclonian! We're sky knights! We don't know who our parents are, but I don't care. They were probably sky knights too and raised us for the cause. There. End of story. I'm going."

Cyclonis's daughter walked off, a slightly deranged rhythm in her step. Wren watched her back as she went, frowning deeply.

"I just need to know.", he whispered to himself.

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**Meanwhile, on a dusty Terra...**

"Jillian, do you receive our transmission?", she asked in a tired voice.

She heard yawning and a short agreement coming from her message crystal. The line was secure.

"All right Canem, let's try to make this a fast one. It shouldn't be too hard, just protect some..."

Her skimmer screeched to a sudden halt and raised a cloud of dust from the desert sand. Behind her, Canem grabbed his bow and looked around, ready for battle and unexpected enemies.

"What is it?", he whispered.

"We're too late."

He sped up slightly, the wheels of his motorcycle-like engine hissing in the heat. He finally reached her side, and caught the direction of her stare. Straight down, under the cliff on which they were situated. Dark, thick smoke.

"We're getting out of here. They probably haven't spotted us yet.", she ordered.

"Miriam! There could be civilians! Are we supposed to stand there and...", protested the Welf.

"No civilians. Just a powerful, super machine that could have given us the advantage. It's destroyed now.", she admitted in a dead-pan voice.

Canem froze on his seat.

"And you're just standing there! Miriam, come on!"

The young woman looked at him quizzically.

" It's a stupid machine, there's no one to save...!"

"It's not about the engine! It's not about anything! It's about you!", he yelled.

"I'm tired. We've been on a constant watch for weeks.", she justified, "if you think I can have a clear mind after that..."

"It's not the lack of sleep, and we both know it.", he snapped.

"What then?"

It was a simple question. It could have been a simple conversation too. But the quick and incoherant words held much ominous and underlying tension. The air was as unbreathable as if they had been caught in the fumes downhill.

"You have been marked! And you won't admit it!", he screamed.

He knew it was childish. To explode like that. But it did him good. To let it out. It was like getting rid of poison.

"Marked? Marked?"

She paled under her tan skin. Distant words from a faraway dream echoed in her mind... "Cursed... Cursed..."

"Yeah! You're off! You've always been off! You're deranged! Face it! You need Jillian to hold your hand every night so you don't wake the whole bleedin' Terra up..!"

It was low. He knew it was. The words had just come out without his permission.

Miriam's eyes filled with tears. Being mercurial and short-tempered, her chagrin was soon replaced by violent anger.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a murderous cyclonian.", she whispered sinisterly.

Her tone was sardonic and filled with hatred. It was Canem's turn to have shards pierce his heart.

"What... How do you..."

"Your own words, Welf! Your own words!", she raged.

Her face was pale no more. Red and distorted, disheveled and... and... expressing pure enmity.

"Your own stinking words! Well, you want to know what I think? You're the lowest of the low! You didn't even get over the sight of seeing Finn and Stork lying dead! What kind of state would you be in if you were me?"

The question was rhethorical.He still chose to answer it though.

"In a better state than you. For one, I would actually be a decent leader."

She leaned over, as if punched to the stomach.

That was when the radio chose to crackle back to life.

"Guys? Is everything okay? I haven't heard from you in a wh...", commented the pilot.

"Jillian, am I a bad leader?", yelled Miriam into the receiver. Back on The Raven, Jillian, baffled by the unexpected question, stayed silent.

"I see.", dryly interfered Miriam,"You think so too."

"What? No, I d..."

She cut the line, not waiting for his excuse.

"You don't need me anymore I guess. Good luck with taking my post. I always knew it was what you really wanted anyway."

She hopped back on her skimmer, refusing to look at his navy eyes.

"Miriam!", impulsively shouted Canem.

"I hate you.", she spat.

Her feet quicked the pedal and her engine roared back into life. She drove off, away from him, trying desperatly to escape the words flying in her head.

Cursed. Cursed. Cursed. Cursed.

Ostracized from your dearest friends.

Cursed. Cursed. Cursed. Cursed.

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	2. Of Dark Thoughts and Traitors

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**In jail on a recluse Terra, at an indefinite time...**

She cried. Sobbed. Broke in tears.

Up and down, up and down the shoulders moved, shaking from the strain of not letting any sound out. The guards would hear her. They would come and taunt her. Or worse, they would hoot injurious comments. Tearing her to shreds. She was used to it by now. You had to be. Cut out the sound...

Truth was, she had never gotten into the habit of doing that.

"Hey! Sweetums! You in there darling? Someone sounds mighty sad around here..."

Oh no. It was impossible not to recognize his voice, the hated, smooth, cruel, threatening, acursed.  
He was teasing at her again, poking at her wounded pride. Salted water streamed down, and she wiped it clumsily.

"What's wrong, doll? Tired of the big, bad sky knights?"

She sniffled now, and was practicing muting his conversation. His voice became fainter and fainter...

She lied down on the dirty floor of her cell. She heard scuttling... probably rats.

She was getting distracted, and the guard's words were back to full volume.

Concentrate. Concentrate.

She had been in this jail for twenty years, two months and seven days.

She had been born on a small Terra.

She loved a man who was probably dead.

Her name was Dove. But now she was known as 0421.

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**Present Time...**

"04:21? In the morning? She could have called at another hour...", muttered Canem.

He rose from the couch on which he had been napping and walked to the ringing message engine. He grabbed the receiver and readied himself for a full-scale apology, with much tears and endearing phrases involved.

"Squadron Night Crows? Your position is..."

Sick at heart, he hung up. The voice had been low, stressed and tired.

It was not Miriam.

He went back to the couch and collapsed on it, intenty staring at the transmission machine.

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**Present time...**

Lyo stared intently at the transmission machine.

"He just hung up...!"

He furiously coded the number again, and waited for the crystal to pick up the frequency.

"Miriam! Look, I..."

The voice, coming straight from The Raven, was not unknown to Lyo. He smirked and spoke into the receiver.

"I am, unfortunately, not Miriam. Now, about your position..."

Canem hung up on him again. Lyo, as if struck by lightening, glared at his receiver.

"I can't believe...!"

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**A couple months ago...**

"I can't believe you're doing this, Lyo.", declared Jillian.

"Look, we each help however we can. My talents lie in ordering people to their assignments, and plotting the grand scheme of things.", joked Lyo.

None of them were smiling.

"You're leaving us. How can you...?!", whispered Miriam.

Lyo felt a pang to his heart when he looked into her dark purple eyes, surrounded by black shadows,sporting a haunted expression.

"I got to. You guys don't understand. We're not some kind of happy little family, sticking together forever or all that mush.. We each need to go where we have to go!", argued the navigator.

"So, where are we going to find a new navigator?", questionned Canem.

At that point, he was still in charge of the Night Crows while Miriam recovered. The group came first, even before his personal opinion of the matter.

"Three is enough to mind the ship. We defeated the Emperor's son! Everything after that should be a piece of cake!", advocated the red-headed man.

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**Present time...**

"Piece of cake anyone?"

"I'll pass."

"No thanks."

"I'm good, but thank you..."

Overjoyed, he grabbed the last of of the remnant chocolate pastry and gulped it down ferociously.

"Jeez, Egret, would you mind doing that with a little less disgusting mess?", criticized Lark.

Hawk, sitting next to him, didn't seem to mind Egret's eating habits. He giggled in his corner.

"So you don't think he's a dirty Wallop? How about you, Wren?"

She turned to face him. He was day-dreaming again, from his vacant expression. She rolled her eyes.

"So, you think I'm dirty?", challenged Egret after digesting his large portion.

"I do.", she agreed superciliously.

"Well, watch this..."

He poured all the dark brown crumbs on himself, and licked his brawny arms. Lark squealed.

"You cyclonian! Stop being so..."

"Why do you say that?", cut Wren.

All three of them stared at him.

"Why do say he's a cyclonian?", he precised.

"Because that's what he is!", joked Hawk.

"Yeah! He really is!", emphasized Lark.

She felt the tension in the air before the two. It was not a light question.

"What did the cyclonians do to us?", he asked aloud.

They all shared a look, wondering if half of his brain had been removed.

"They're beasts. Inferior beings. They stole our land for centuries and massacred our people. It is our glorious duty and burden to protect the citizen of the Sky Knight Kindom and destroy those pests.", recited the trio.

The exact passage he had expected, straight from their old history books.

"What do we know? I mean, what if...", he still kept nagging.

"They killed Jay."

That suddenly stopped the discussion short.

"Yeah! And they'll pay for that!", assured Egret, perharps a little too fast.

"But Jay was attacking them... We all knew him, he wasn't exactly...", argued Wren, knowing full well that his teamates had been as fond of Jay as he had been- not very much.

Egret, Lark, and Hawk froze at once. They looked straight ahead, their lips slightly shaking.

"What the..."

Wren turned around, and came face to face with two members of the Sky Order Special Squad.

"What is your opinion of our beloved Emperor's... may Atmos bless his godly name... son?"

Wren almost snorted. May Atmos bless his godly name? Those Special Squads were supposed to enforce morale and spread propaganda, but they were laying it down a little too thick.  
After all, Wren knew for a fact that a few weeks ago, Emperor Aerrow, in a crazy action unexpected by everyone, assaulted the members of the Sky Knight Council while they were in a meeting concerning the year's crops. What had happened to him was pretty unsure, but Wren was sure he hadn't been treated as if his "godly" self should be blessed. He had always been but an efficient puppet anyway.  
Of course, those thoughts were hardly loyal to the Order, he had better keep them to himself for now. For now, just lie to those goons about Jay.

"He was a great commander. The perfect sky knight.", he answered.

The fib hurt, but it was better than nothing. The sky knights passed him by, and his three teammates stared at him with fearful expressions, scooting slightly away from his, as if he had caught a rare disease.

He sighed. What was wrong with him? From where did all these rebellious ideas come from?

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**Some weeks earlier...**

"Where do all your ideas come from?"

"They just... come to me I guess!"

The red-headed man was beaming. It was hard to show humility when Colonel Ace was praising him.

"You'll go far, that I see clearly! With your help, we'll beat those beastly sky knights out of their mamas' skirts!"

"Yeah! Cyclonia!"

"Whoooo!"

"Three cheers for the greatest of them all!"

"Hip hip..."

"Hooray!"

"Hip hip..."

"Hooray!"

The cheers and leers continued for a while after that. Lyo stood in the middle of the room, positively radiating. Things were going his way! Things were happening, lots of things, and they were about to win. For they would win. With his help... It was a sure thing.

"All right boys, so with Lyo's new system, let's see if we can...", started the commander.

Suddenly, a screech interrupted him. It was an agonizing cry, a plea for help, a yelp of defeat...

The soldiers looked at each other and two of them ran out, going to inspect the source of the noise. After five minutes they came back, supporting between the two of them an old woman, who seemed to be in hysterics.

"They took Terra Confido! They took it back!", she shouted, trembling so much she was about to collapse.

Silence. Dead silence.

"They took Confido! They killed..."

The elderly lady started wailing again. Her family had probably lived on this Terra.

"How do you know this?!", interrogated Colonel Ace.

She suddenly garbbed her long skirt and started digging into its long pockets. With frail fingers, she held up a little metal machine. A transmitter.

"It's recorded.", she croaked., "I recorded it when she was talking"

Lyo came over and gently took the object from the grandma. He turned a knob and a thin, childish voice rang out. It was such a high-quality engine that the little girl seemed to be in the room with them, whispering her dark secrets, her last words...

"Grandma! The sky knights are coming! Mommy told me to call, she was sad... She said they're coming. They're coming grandma."

There was a sound in the backround. A powerful, machine-like sound. Skimmers.

Then started the screams. The horrible, excruciating yells. Pain, death, misery... hatred.

The child's voice screamed something that froze all the soldiers present. Her insubstantial and innocent voice was a clamor, a distress call, a single word that would haunt all here for the rest of their existance.

The transmission stopped at that moment, as if the old woman didn't have the mental strength to listen to anymore of it.

Lyo still had chills when he heard the small, feeble voice scream her mother's name.

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**Some days earlier, in an unassuming office...**

"My mother's name!That's what I'm asking you!"

"It's classified information, soldier Wren."

"And I'm a silver level, meaning..."

"Only a gold level can access that information."

"That's crazy, the only gold level is the Emperor..."

"In that case, come back to me when you're Emperor, soldier Wren."

The tone was mocking, sardonic. The clerk had no idea that it would influence the young man so much.

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**A month earlier, in the Cyclonian headquarters...**

"You influenced me so much. You were my hero."

She sobbed, biting her lips as hard as she could. Drops of blood trickled down her mouth.

"You were only a fake. A horrible, lying, thieving fake!"

"Canary, listen, I have no idea what..."

"You were one of them. One of the Dark Stealers."

Lyo froze. So she knew.

"How did you...?"

"You betrayed me! Lied!"

"You're misunderstanding the whole situation, I was..."

"Were you a Dark Stealer or not?"

"Yes."

Begrudging reply. Raging answer.

"You foul beast! You... despicable, horrible..."

"Calm down! That was years ago! I've changed! I've changed Canary!"

"They're the ones who attacked Terra Confido! How do I know you're not a bloody traitor?! How do I know you didn't sell them information?"

"I didn't. Please... You have to trust me! I have nothing to do with any of them..."

"Lies! Lies! You're with them! And since you're with them, you're with the cyclonians! You're an enemy!"

"Canary, now listen, this is going way too far..."

"Yes. You're an enemy. You have to be destroyed."

Her eyes glinted a dangerous color. Her raven hair was like a halo. She was an angel. An avenging angel.

She grabbed her dagger.

"Canary! Get back or..."

"A bloody murderer..."

He grabbed his staff. If the girl was going mad, he sure as heck wasn't getting hurt in the process.

She lunged. After that things escalated rapidly. Lyo still had no idea how exactly it had happened. It seemed the whole battle was a blurr in his memory. Perharps it was better that way.

If there was one thing he remembered, it was the funeral. She looked serene. Peaceful at last.  
Everyone believed she had died in a crystal explosion. Let people believe what they wanted to.

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End file.
